notyansow oor Engels

notyansow

Vertalings in die woordeboek Kornies - Engels

bulletins

naamwoord

memoranda

naamwoord

memorandums

naamwoord

memos

verb noun

notations

naamwoord

voorbeelde

/ notyansow / / /
notations

/ notyansow / / /
memoranda

/ notyansow ankow / / /
obituaries

/ notyansow / / /
memos

OW SPENA TERMYN Y’N GLEUDHGELL DEYLYUYEK. My a goskas dres termyn hir lowr drefenn difygyans dien ow nerth – y’m brys hag y’m korf an dhew. Kettell hedhis ow resek an adreynalin, klamderys en vy. Pan dhifunis, yth esa golow dydh. Y hyllyn klywes tardh treweythys gonnys – poes ha skav – ow tos dhiworth leow a-ves. My a glywas, dell grysyn, nebes rondys dhe vos lowsyes dhiworth tankow, ow kana hag i nijys der an ayr. Yth esa hwath bos klywys skrijans ha bedhyglans. Nyns esens na hwath, an zombis, fethys yn tien mes, yn sertan, nyns o lemmyn an oberyans breselyek saw skubylenna an re a dreusvywsa an nerth meur y grevder, may hwrussa devnydh an soudoryon nyhewer. Nyns esa edhomm dhymm gul devnydh a’m awen rag gweles y’m brys vy an ladhva didruedh ow hwarvos hwath dres an daras dur degeys an gleudgell. Byttegyns, y’n tor’ ma, sparyes en ni erbynn kemmeres rann ynno – po avel vyktymys po avel gwryoryon. (“Po avel vyktymys po avel gwryoryon” – ass o henna dewis. Y sevi Davydh ha my, warbarth, yn le unnik.) A-barth yeghes ow brys, my a erviras dhe lettya an hwarvosow ma dhiworto – yn hwir, lettya puptra oll – taklow diboes hogen. Yth esa termyn lowr dhymm rag notya an taklow a-berth y’n gleudhgell deyluyek may hwoskeusi lemmyn Davydh ha my. Ytho, gesewgh vy kevrenna ow notyansow gensowgh. Yth ens i, perghennow a’n drehevyans byghan ma, a dhevedhyans Italek. Mar ny yllys redya hogen an henwyn a omdhiskwedha war an lownyow re via stegys dhe’n neythigow, y hyllys bos sertan a-dro dhodho dhe’n kynsa vu. Yth esa an pervedh afinys gans meur a dhelyow: imajys a Yesus, Yosep ha Maria Wynn (y’ga mysk an huni may hwrussa devnydh Powl anodho rag ladha an zombi esa owth omsettya war Jarles.) Y tegi an parosyow foslywyansow ow tiskwedhes gwelyow biblek a heveli bos pur haval dhe’n imajys an Chapel Sixtus – gorrys ena hwymm-hwamm, dell heveli, hag oll a-dro, skeusennow sans ha pederow salwer Maria Wynn. Byttegyns, an moyha kerys tra ragov vy o portrayans plastek a Bab Yowann XXIII, meur y ughelder mes hwath ewntrek, a’y sav y’n entrans a Vasilyka Sen Peder. Prag o hemma an moyha kerys dhymm? Mar kweskys dorn plastek esa ow ri an vennath babek, golow byghan eth yn fyw yn krommdo an vasilyka!
SPENDING TIME IN THE FAMILY CRYPT. I slept for a time out of sheer exhaustion – both mental and physical. Once the adrenalin stopped flowing, I was out cold. When I awoke, it was daylight. I could still hear the occasional report of guns – light and heavy – coming from outside. I even fancied that I heard a few tank rounds being loosed off and singing as they flew through the air. There was still audible screaming and roaring. The zombies had not yet been completely subdued but, surely, the military operation was now merely mopping up those who had survived the overwhelming force used by the military on the previous night. I didn’t need to use my imagination to visualise what pitiless slaughter was still happening beyond the closed steel door of the crypt. But, for the moment, we were spared from participating in it – either as victims or as perpetrators. (“Either as victims or as perpetrators”. What a choice. David and I, together, stood in a unique position.) For the sake of my ongoing sanity, I decided to block those events out – anything, in fact – even trivial, unimportant things. I had a lot of time to observe the inside of the family crypt in which David and I now sheltered. So, let me share my observations with you. The owners of the facility were plainly of Italian descent. Even if one could not have read the names which appeared on the plaques attached to the various niches, you just knew this was so, at first sight. The interior was festooned with statues of Jesus, Joseph and the Blessed Virgin Mary (including the one that Paul had used to dispatch the zombie that attacked Charles). The walls bore frescoes of biblical scenes which seemed to draw heavily on the images of the Sistine Chapel – and there were holy pictures and rosary beads placed, seemingly at random, all about the place. But my favourite artefact was a plastic model of a giant, but still avuncular, Pope John XXIII standing in the entrance of St. Peter’s Basilica. Why was this my favourite? Because, if you squeezed the plastic hand that was bestowing the papal blessing, a little light lit up in the cupola of the basilica!

notyans [ m ] notyansow
memo [ s ]

“L’” yn-medhav. (An prys ma, ny yllyn leverel an kynsa ger hogen – mes an glavjiores a dhegemmeras ow styryans da lowr.) An versyon berr o yndella: y tardhsa Ingrid ha’n Kapten a-berth y’n vedhegva nyhewer, troha hanternos, ow skrija hag owth arma an eyl dh’y gila – an tri bilen orth aga holya. Yth esen war rosvoes-klavji, ogas marow. Yth heveli Ingrid dhe leverel, arta hag arta, an Kapten dhe vos “moldrer muskok” – ha’n Kapten re worthybsa, arta hag arta: “Henn yw fara diwostydh, ‘Dhoktour. Dha bennsoedhek ov. Ty re’m assaltyas. Ty re dhisobayas ow arghadow didro. My a wra dha worra a-dherag breuslys breselek. Y hwrav vy! My a’n ambos dhis!” (Po neppyth a’n par na.) Yn apert, y pes’sa an gwari-skrijans dres moy es hanter-our – ha, dres an termyn ma, an klavjioresow re’m kemmersa yn kosel dhe-ves rag kavoes charj ahanav vy. Y surhasons gwryghonenn ow mernans dhe besya bys pan dhothya medhek – medhek arall - rag ow attendya. Ytho, an klavjioresow re’m gwithsa yn fyw. Byttegyns, herwydh an glavjiores orth ow attendya, ny wrussens i ow dasvywa, yn kynsa le. Herwydh an klavjiores na, an “arghadow didro” re skonsa Ingrid aswonn o dhe’m gasa a-berth y’n chambour diwaskans wosa sinys oll a’m bywynans dhe vos mes a wel. Yth heveli hi dhe herdhya a-ves Dr Mengele, hag igeri uskis an chambour ha draylya yn-mes ow horf – hag ena hi re wrussa yn sewen DPK orthiv vy. Hmm. Ass o fara koynt. Ny wodhyen hwath pyth re bia Davydh ow kul dres oll an termyn ma mes govenek o dhymm dh’y diskudha – pan hedhsa an omglywans kawghek ma. Y lenthas nebes an shorys-basans ha’n klavjiores a ros difresyans-bayn. My a goskas berrdermyn, dell grysav. Pan dhifunis arta, yth esa Ingrid ryb ow gweli, ow redya an notyansow medhegel. Y tesevis my dhe dyli godhvos meur ras yn hy hever, drefenn, yn despit dhe oll an fellder vil may kevrannsa, wosa oll an traow ma, hi re salwsa ow honna truan.
“T’” I said. (This time, I couldn’t even get the first word out – but the nurse understood my meaning well enough.) The short version was this: Ingrid and the Captain had burst into the infirmary late last night, furiously screaming and yelling at each other – their three confused goons in tow. I was on a hospital trolley, nine parts dead. Apparently, Ingrid had repeatedly called the Captain an ‘insane murderer’ – to which the Captain had, equally repeatedly, responded: “That’s insubordination, Doctor. I am your superior officer. You have assaulted me. You have disobeyed my direct order. I will have you court-martialled. I will! You can count on it.” (Or something along those lines.) This unseemly screaming match had apparently gone on for half an hour or more – during which time the nursing staff had quietly spirited me away and taken charge. They made sure that the spark of life within me had kept glowing until a doctor – i.e. some other doctor – could attend to me. The nurses had kept me going. But, according to the nurse attending me, it was not they who had revived me in the first place. According to the nurse, the ‘direct order’ that Ingrid had disobeyed was to leave me inside the decompression chamber after all signs of life had disappeared. It seems she had forcibly shoved Dr Mengele aside, rapidly opened the decompression chamber, dragged out my lifeless form – and successfully performed CPR on me. Hmm. Most curious behaviour. I still did not know what David had been doing all this time but hoped that I would find out – when I stopped feeling like complete shit. The raking coughing fits slowed a little and the nurse gave me some pain relief. I believe I slept for a time. When next I awoke, Ingrid was standing beside my bed, checking my charts. I supposed I ought to have thanked her because, despite all the abject cruelty in which she had participated, in the final analysis, she had saved my miserable neck.

Fentynnyow erel dhe les rag istori teylu synsys yn Kresen Kernow a gomprehend kovadhow Lagha Boghosogneth, titlow, gobrenansow, mappow degedhow, kovlyvrow skolyow ha prisonyow, skeusennow ha moy lower. Paperyow-nowodhow yw fentynnyow dhe les rag avisyansow genesigeth, demedhyans ha mernans, keffrys ha derivasow ynkleudhyans ha notyansow ankow. Studhyansow dyllys a-dro dhe neb unn hanow teylu a allsa bos dhe les ynwedh.
Other useful sources for family history held at Kresen Kernow include poor law records, deeds, leases, tithe maps, school registers, gaol registers, photographs and much more. Newspapers can be a very useful source for birth, marriage and death notices as well as funeral reports and obituaries. Published studies of particular surnames may also be of use.

obituaries / notyansow ankow / / /
obits

notyans [ hanow gorow ] notyansow [ hanow liesek / hanow liesplek ]
memorandum - memo

Paperyow-nowodhow yw fentynnyow dhe les rag avisyansow genesigeth, demedhyans ha mernans, keffrys ha derivasow ynkleudhyans ha notyansow ankow.
Newspapers can be a very useful source for birth, marriage and death notices as well as funeral reports and obituaries.

notyans ( masculine noun ) notyansow ( plural ) ( ) ( ) ( ) ( )
memorandum - memo

Ha, byttele, heb mar, Davydh a ylli kerdhes oll a-dro ganso ev y honan ha rogha nebes ha dybri pobel ha’n traow haval. Yth esa sinys kler a vywnans – a neb eghenn. Ytho, prag yth esa an linennow platt? Ple’th esa bywder y ymmpynnyon hag a heveli hwarvos ynno ev? Ny wonn vy. Nyns yw hemma ow hudynn. Ena, y teuth ha bos an hwarvosow nebes moy didheurek – kyn nag yw yn ewn ‘didheurek’ an ger a dhewissen vy y’n termyn na. An Kapten a wovynnas bos res onan yntra’n pokow-jatel. Onan a’n vilens a’n ros dhodho a-dhistowgh. An Kapten a’n hwithras rag surhe y vos yn fyw – dre y worra war skovarn Davydh. Yn hwir, yn fyw o – konfirmyes da lowr gans gorthybow Davydh. Wosa henna: Krakk. Krakk. Krakk. Ev a’n gorras war rannow oll an korf Davydh, loes y grogen: tremmynn, diwla, diwdroes, lygyon. Pur gowal o y oberenn, pur gowal yn hwir. Davydh a vedhyglas, dhiworth dallethvos bys diwedh, ha tenna erbynn an ledher – owth assaya y wella rag terri y golmennow ha drehedhes y dormentyoryon. Yth esa onan a’n ebilyer horn esa ow synsi ledhrenn a dheuth ha bos lows yn fram prennek an gador – mes nyns o lows lowr rag bos a vern. An Kapten a vinhwarthas an minhwarth loubek na esa dhodho ev. (Teyrgweyth, thukk!) Yn apert, yth esa owth omlowenhe – yn arbennik, pan worras ev tredan dhe rannow Davydh a via, y’n termynyow erell, y moyha kroghendanow leow. Ena, y teuth dhe’m brys an kynsa heveleptyow dhe oberennow tebel gwrys gans Doktour Yosef Mengele, “El Mernans”. Ha hwarvedhys torment Davydh, meur y dowlans ha systemasek y fordh, yth esa Ingrid ow kul hy notyansow gwiw a-dro dhe’n hwarvosow ma, attendyans fast dhe skrin an BGK. Yth heveli bos dhedhi le bern y’n manylyon munys an artys sadystek gwrys gans hy thryghor ages an sywyansow ‘skiansek’ ow bos askorrys gansa. “Oll an linennow yw hwath platt, ‘Dhoktour,” yn-medh Ingrid, heb emoesyon. “Marthek. Marthek yn hwir,” a worthybis Mengele. “Byttegyns, linennow war skrin an den arall, an gevell nag yw zombi, re dheuth ha bos foll yn tien,” a geworras Ingrid. “Poran anwaytyes, dhe’m breus vy.” An Kapten a viras orth ow skrin yn kettermyn. Ewn re via Ingrid. Yth esa linennow ow skrin ow honan ow tresya yn gwyls – a-ves an wradhva hogen.
And yet, of course, David could move about by himself, grunt a bit, eat people and so on. These were clear signs of life, of a sort. So, how come the flat-lines? Where was the brain activity that seemed to be going on? Don’t know. Not my problem. Then things got a bit more interesting – though ‘interesting’ is not exactly the word I would have chosen at the time. The Captain asked for one of the cattle prods. One of the goons duly handed it over. The Captain checked to see that it was on – by applying it to David’s ear. It was indeed on – as David’s reaction amply confirmed. Then: Zap. Zap. Zap. He applied it all over David’s grey-skinned body: face, hands, feet, genitals. He was very thorough, very thorough indeed. David roared loudly from start to finish and strained at the leather – doing his utmost to snap his bonds and get at his tormentors. One of the bolts holding a strap even worked loose from the wooden frame of the chair – but not enough to matter . The Captain was smiling that slimy smile of his. (Yuck – thrice.) He was obviously enjoying himself – particularly when he applied the electric charge to what would otherwise have been David’s most sensitive areas. It was at that moment that the parallels with the evil work of Dr Josef Mengele, the angel of Death, first came to my mind. While the torture of David was proceeding in a thoroughly well-planned and systematic fashion, Dr Ingrid was keeping her attention firmly fixed on the CRT screen and making appropriate notes of what she observed. It seemed she was less interested in the finer points of the Sadistic Arts class that was being conducted by her superior than in the ‘scientific’ data it was producing. “Still flat-lining, Doctor,” she reported, in a matter-of-fact way. “Remarkable. Truly remarkable,” commented Mengele. “But the readout of the other subject, the non-zombie twin, has gone completely wild, doctor,” Ingrid added. “Quite unexpected in my view.” The Captain looked at my own screen at the same time. She was right. The squiggles of my own readout were flying off the scale.

/ notyansow / / /
bulletins

notyans [hanow gorow] notyansow [hanow liesplek] [disamstyryans]
memorandum - memo

Hi a dremenas pellennik der an toll-wolok ha my a’n kollonkas gans nebes dowr. Nyns o yn sempel Aspro – neppyth selys war goskles o. Y feuv danvennys yn kommolow dres nebes ourys. (Y’m hunrosow, my a borthas kov ow bos yn neb toll tewl, lenwys gans mog, ha my goslowys orth Muddy Waters, meur y dhelit. Yn apert, hemm o onan yntra’n experyansow moy plesont an jydh. Y fien vy ow koslowes orth an musyk na, re dhothya kyns dhiworth an stevell gemmyn, y’m isomwodhvos – musyk a weresa dhymm difeudhi flamm ow fayn.) Ha gyllys an koskles – ha dehwelys an payn – y teuth dhymm na via edhomm dhe Ingrid a ri dhymm difresyans-bayn mar nerthek – po, yn hwir, difresyans- bayn vytholl. Martesen, y fia dhedhi nebes edrek drefenn an drokter may kemmersa hi rann ynno – ha may vysytsa hi warnav an payn y’n kynsa le. Po, martesen, yth esa acheson arall dhedhi. My a wortsa rag ervira. Mar pe edrek, henn o neppyth a allsen gul devnydh anodho. o0o An nessa dydh, y teuth Ingrid gans an vilens ha ri dhedha arghadow rag ow helmi gans diwla ha gans dewdroes hag, ena, rag ow hemmeres dhe stevell- geskows. Y thriga Davydh y’n bagh, meur y gynyans ha’y hanasans. Yth esen a’gan esedh, Ingrid ha my, pubonan dh’unn du an voes vyghan prennek y’n stevell heb ayr. Hi a erghis dhe’n withysi dhe wortos yn-mes. I a wrug yndellna heb hokyans na govynn. Y koselhasa nebes hy maner a-ves. Byttegyns, ny yllyn hy threstya, heb mar. Wosa oll, hi re gemmersa rann yn folonjedhek y’m torment systemasek an jydh kyns. Y fia yn kosel a’y esedh ow kul notyansow ha my godhevys. “A-dro dhe byth a vynnydh keskewsel, ‘Dhoktour?” a wovynnis. “Ni a yll kewsel yn rydh omma. Nyn eus an Kapten, dres berrdermyn, dhe’n selva. Nyns eus daffar vyth rag gul rekordyans y’n stevell ma. Ny yllir naneyl agan observya.” Y sevis vy ow diwskoedh. Ple’th esa hi ow mos gans hemma? Hi a besyas: “An draow ma a leversysta y’n arethva an jydh arall, yns i gwir? Res yw dhymm godhvos. Yn hwiryonedh, esons i ow ladha yonkers a allsa omwellhe?” Hwath kelmys ow diwla ha’m dewdroes, my a boesas war-rag ha mires orti, ow dewlagas fast war hy dewlagas, ha leverel – rag hy ferswadya gwella gallen:
She passed a tablet through the peephole and I took it with some water. It was no mere Aspro – it was something morphine-based and sent me into la-la land for some hours. (I recall dreaming that I was at some dark, smoke-filled dive listening to Muddy Waters strutting his stuff – obviously one of the more pleasant experiences of the day. That music from the Common Room had infiltrated my unconscious mind. This helped further to blot out the pain.) As the opiate started to wear off, and the pain returned, it occurred to me that Ingrid need not have given me such powerful pain relief – or, indeed, any at all. Maybe there was some remorse for the evil which she had actively participated in – and which had caused me the pain in the first place. Or, maybe, there was another motive. I would wait and see. If it were remorse, that was something I could work with. o0o Next day, Ingrid came with the goons and gave orders to have me bound hand and foot and taken to an interview room. David remained in the cell, groaning and moaning. Ingrid and I sat either side of a small wooden table in the airless room. She ordered the guards to wait outside. They did so with neither hesitation nor question. Her outward manner had softened a little but I could not trust her, of course. She had willingly participated in systematic torture only the day before. She had sat calmly and taken notes while I suffered. “What’s on your mind, doctor?” I asked. “We can talk freely here. The Captain is temporarily off the base and there is no recording equipment in this room. We are not being observed.” I shrugged. Where was this going? She continued: “Those things that you said in the lecture theatre the other day, are they true? I need to know this. Are they really slaughtering kids who might recover?” Still bound hand and foot, I leaned forward, looked her in the eye and said with as much conviction as I could muster:

/ notyansow / / /
memorandums

Y halsa ow klywans ha’m gwel, an dhew, dres pols mes y hyllyn blasa hwath yn ta. Hag, ogas a-dhistowgh, oversettyes en vy gans fler euthyk a dho dhiworth petrol ha hudhygel esa ow lenwel an ayr. Hag, ytho, yth esa an awtoritys ow kul devnydh a napalm – po kowles-betrol – warnan ni! Y skrijsa an jynn-nija jet isel, a-ugh an tiryow krykket leun a zombis ha gasa koedha unn danbellenn unnik, lenwys gans napalm. (Ny yllyn gweles an gommolenn du, skavell-groenek y furv, gwrys gans an danbellenn ma.) Y feu distruys a-dhesempis meur yntra’n dus anvarow. Re erell, nebes pella dhiworth an fog euthyk bras, o gans tan, ow resek tro ha pub tu kepar ha keniver faglenn koth. Ha, dres henna, yth esa re erell hwath, pella arta a-ves, re via kabolys gans an kowles-betrol ha dhegemmeres loskow sevur. Yth esens ow koleski hwath. An jynn-nija, o ev dhe Ostrali – ‘Mirage’ y verk? Y’n kontrari part, a dhothya an Yankis gans aga F4 ‘Fantoms’? Nyns esen vy sur mar kylli Mirage, gwrys yn Pow Frynk, doen arv napalm. Nyns o da gans an soudoryon Ostralek an arvow napalm yn Vietnam mes my a wodhya Fantom dhe alloes gul an oberenn. Nyns o hemma travyth a-der pollans pur dhymm, heb mar – drefenn na welsen marnas nebes a’n jynn-nija re dheklinsa dhiworth an ebron-nos rag gasa koedha ‘Ifarn-yn-Kanna’ warnan. Y kallsa ev bos ‘Tiger Moth’ po ‘Spitfire’ – mar pe travyth a-der ow notyansow rag barna y honanieth. My re welsa hwarvosow a’n par ma dre rolyer nowodhow gwrys dres an vresel Vietnam. Dhe wir, moy reudhys en vy gans gwel gorlosk an dus vyw, gwer, benynes ha fleghes – dynasogyon, yn brassa rann - ages an euth ow tisplegya a- rag ow dewlagas. Byttele, an skrijans, ughel y bych, ow tos dhiworth kansow a zombis gannboeth yw neppyth na allav nevra ankevi. Y tasdheuth dhymm ow gwel ha’m klywans – tamm ha tamm. Y pesya berrdermyn imaj warlergh an lughesenn ha’n senyans ughel y’m diwskovarn. Byttegyns, yth esa dhymm gwel ha klywans lowr rag effeythi unnweyth arta ‘Towl B’. Meryl anfeusik re via trigores Kollji Sen Hilda. Hi (ha kothes dhedhi) re dhiskwedhsa dhymm a-dro dhe’n gollji – ha, keffrys, i re’m galwsa dhe gevrenna boes-kollji gansa. (Hag yndella, my a grysi yn anfel Meryl dhe vos tennys dhymm yn romansek. Byttegyns, nyns o henna an kas – hi o yn sempel myrgh hweg ha hegar re dhothya dhiworth an pow.)
Two of my senses (sight and hearing) were temporarily knocked out but my sense of smell remained intact. That sense almost immediately was, in turn, overwhelmed by the pungent stench of gasoline-laden soot filling the air. Now the military was using napalm, or jellied gasoline, on us! The jet had screamed low over the zombie-filled oval and dumped a single bomb, filled with napalm. (I didn’t get to see the billowing, black mushroom cloud it must have made.) Many of the undead were destroyed instantly. Others, a bit further from the massive blast, were ablaze, running in all directions like so many ancient torches. Still others, even further away, had been splashed by the jellied petrol and suffered serious burns (and were still smouldering). Was it one of ours – a Mirage – or had the Yanks already arrived with F4 Phantoms? I wasn’t sure if a French-made Mirage could deliver a napalm weapon. Napalm wasn’t much favoured by the Aussies in Vietnam but I knew that a Phantom could do the job. This was, of course, an idle speculation on my part since I’d seen precious little of the plane that had stooped out of the night sky and delivered ‘Hell-in-a-Tincan’ to us. It might as well have been a Tiger Moth or a Spitfire. I’d seen this sort of thing on newsreels from the Vietnam War. I confess that I had been more upset by the incineration of living men, women and children – mostly civilians – than by the horror that was now unfolding before me. Still, the high-pitched wailing of hundreds of incandescent zombies is something I’m unlikely ever to forget. Sight and hearing came back to me by degrees. The afterimage of the flash and the loud ringing in my ears were persistent. However, I soon had enough senses about me to continue to put ‘Plan B’ into effect. Poor Meryl had been a resident of St. Hilda’s college. She and a friend had shown me around the place – and generously invited me to partake of the college dinner with them. (Little wonder, now that I think about it, that I naively thought she might be romantically interested in me. But, no, she was just a nice, country girl being friendly.)

An oberenn ollstyryansek ma a brov hwithrans dhe-les hag olldhalghus yn istory done dibarow Kernow. 45 dons gans notyansow kler ha gansa profyansow rag tonow.
This definitive work provides a fascinating and comprehensive insight into Cornwall’s distinctive dance history. 45 dances with clear notation accompanied by suggested tunes.

Ny wrug Davydh dos yn kosel – mes ev a wrug dos, wosa oll. Pok-jatel yw toul effeythys marthusek rag perswadya – rag perswadya zombi hogen. Unweyth arta, kudhys o agan dewlagas. An acheson? Ny yllyn leverel. Martesen, ny vynnens agan aswonn fas an pow. Martesen y fynnens koselhe Davydh – kyn hwrussa an pok-jatel oberenn pur splann rag y amovya. Marthys yw dell wra 10,000 volt dhe gig marow hogen. Skon lowr, Davydh ha my omgavas war warila yn hel-guntellyans vras. An areth re dhallathsa seulabrys yn apert ha ni a ylli klywes lev an Kapten a sadronenni heb lett. Da o gans Kapten y lev, dell heveli, mes ny yllyn bos mar sur a-dro dhe’n woslowysi. Nebonan a gemmeras dhe-ves pyth re gorhersa agan dewlagas ha y feu drehevys kroghlenn rag diskwedhes oll. Davydh a vedhyglas, kepar ha pan eus lostlavar, hag y tyenas kansow souder Yanki warbarth. Hwarvos gwaridi pur. My a viras troha’n Kapten, a’y sav orth an mikrogowser, meur y dransyek. Lowen lowr en vy bos dhodho y vannblesour – an huni na, yn neb kas. Wosa oll, hwath byw en vy hag yth esa ev ow synsi hwath galloes a-dro dhe’m bywnans po mernans. (Ha galloes a-dro dhe dhistruyans Dhavydh keffrys.) An woslowysi a dhasdhallathas anella. Yth esa an areth ow pesya. Molleth Dyw! An gour o annius! Heb hedhi, ev a dhasleveri an keth notyansow ledan a-dro dhe semlans an zombis: kroghen, loes hy liw, dewlagas dysliw, dillas ankempenn, diwweus vras, ... Traow a via apert yn hwir dhe oll an woslowysi, traow a yllens merkya aga honan wosa nebes eylennow. A nag esa travyth y’n skians arbennik an gour ma? Skians a ylli offra dhe’n woslowysi? Yth heveli nag o hemma an kas. Byttele, nyns o hemma marthys vyth. Dres py termyn re spensa yn hwir y’n observyans an zombis ha pygemmys anedha re observsa? Gorthybow: nyns o termyn hir ha, martesen, mann saw onan. Ytho, pyth esa dhodho dhe grysi y vos gwiw rag ri areth dhe’n soudoryon a-dro dhe’n zombis?
David didn’t “come quietly” – but he did come. The cattle-prod is a remarkably effective tool of persuasion, even on a zombie. Once again, we were blindfolded. Why I cannot say. Perhaps they didn’t want us getting familiar with the layout of the place. Perhaps they wanted to calm David down – though the cattle-prod had done a terrific job of revving him up. It’s amazing what 10,000 volts will do to even dead flesh. Soon enough, David and I found ourselves on stage in a large meeting hall. A lecture had apparently already commenced and we could hear the Captain’s voice droning on and on. He obviously enjoyed the sound of his own voice but I could not be so sure of the audience. Our blindfolds were removed and a curtain was raised to reveal all. David roared as if on cue and the hundreds of fresh-faced Yankee soldiers gasped as one. Pure theatre. I looked towards the Captain, standing at the microphone. He was in Seventh Heaven. I didn’t begrudge him his petty pleasure (not that one, anyway). After all, I was still alive and he held power of life and death over me and David. The audience resumed breathing. The lecture continued. Damn this man was boring! Over and over again he repeated the same broad observations concerning the appearance of zombies: grey skin colour, dull eyes, unkempt appearance, enlarged lips, ... Really basic stuff that any member of the audience could observe for himself within a matter of seconds. Did this man not have any insights of his own to offer? Evidently not. Still, this was hardly surprising. How long had he actually spent observing zombies and how many had he observed? Answers: not very long and probably only one. So, what made him think he was qualified to give a lecture to the troops on zombies?

notyans masculine noun notyansow plural
memorandum - memo